Fishnet Stockings
by TheShyMonster
Summary: Hermione is fed up of keeping their relationship a secret, but it seems nothing will make Severus come out. That is until a certain girls' night out and a pair of fishnet stockings change that forever.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

"Out." Heavy breathing and aching limbs were suddenly forgotten. Hermione's eyes snapped open to stare in horror at Severus' white ceiling.

Weren't they passed this?

Severus' erratic breathing blew his hair off of his face as he turned over in his blue sheets to look at her. Hermione's eyes stayed stubbornly on the ceiling; she didn't need to see the look of pity and disdain that would surely be painted across his face. Childishly, she kidded herself that maybe if she wished really hard and didn't look away from the flecking paint, it wasn't really there. An annoyed sigh whistled through Severus' teeth and his long pale fingers wrapped around Hermione's upper arm, ready to push her out of his bed. Desperation flooded Hermione's system, numbing the dull pain of bites and bruises. She rolled over quickly to straddle his lean, pale torso. Black eyes glared up at her. Severus' hands traced up her legs to tip her off of him and onto the floor. But Hermione couldn't let that happen again. It was time to make a stand. Her eyes stared down into his, pleading with him. _'Please, don't make me leave.'_

This is definitely not where Hermione saw herself five years ago. When asked by a bored reporter what the frizzy haired sidekick of the boy-who-lived would be doing with her life she smiled and launched into a happy description of a career in the ministry, a happy relationship, two beautiful children and a menagerie of family pets. But now mere years later she was stuck in a dead end job and her boyfriend liked to pretend she didn't exist.

Large hands stilled on her thighs and Hermione watched Severus fall into thought, subtly she held her breath with trepidation as he debated whether or not to let her stay the night. The familiar burn of attraction suddenly licked up her torso again as she watched him lying buried in his sheets staring up at her. This was what kept her coming back. After every disdainful look; casual throw-back and witheringly put down, this basic _need_ pulled her back into his arms. His forehead creased and his lips pursed in contemplation. Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair, crossing them behind his head for luck. Severus' eyes caressed her body once more and suddenly he tipped her off of his lap. Hermione's head dropped in defeat. But soon the smooth coolness of his sheets greeted her and she felt the amazing gift of Severus running his hand up her body as he tugged the covers up over her skin. She watched in wonderment as he pointed his wand at his hearth and extinguished the only light in the room.

Lying silently in his blue sheets Hermione listened to his breathing, gratitude flooding her system as he tugged her closer in a rare show of affection. Contently tucked into his side she closed her eyes, sharing the warmth of his body. It was a breakthrough. But curiosity suddenly prevented sleep. How far exactly could she push this? If he expected her to clear out before dawn he had another thing coming. Hermione resolved suddenly not to let him treat her like a sordid one-night-stand any longer. She sighed happily and snuggled deeper into his side, her chin moving to rest of his shoulder.

"Go to sleep." mumbled his voice, muffled by her hair but still unmistakeably his deep, angry drawl. Hermione nodded slowly, not wanting to be kicked out of his bed when she had come so far. She quickly emptied her mind, ready to slip into dreams of the man lying next to her.

When Hermione awoke groggily the next morning, the resolve to turn their relationship into something more then a six month long one-night-stand was fresh in her mind. But when she finally managed to pry her eyes open she was greeted by an empty bed. Severus was gone. In his place was a note, his scrawl hastily spat across it. Her fingers fumbled in the sheets until her sleep-addled brain managed to grab the small piece of parchment and hold it up to her tired eyes.

_Staff meeting._

_Speak later._

_-S_

The parchment crumpled in her fist as she dropped back onto the covers. Her fresh resolve drained as though Severus had pulled out the plug of her confidence. She couldn't believe he had actually managed to ruin their first ever morning after. Spotting his fireplace out of the corner of her eyes she took aim.

As the note landed gracefully in the grate her bare feet touched the floor and she sprung up from the bed.

* * *

A.N – Hello people,

I have yet another Snape/Hermione boiling. Sorry if this seems quick.

I do spend a lot of time right now doing college work, but I also spend a lot of time avoiding college work so this shouldn't be updated too irregularly.

Life is very confusing right now: boys messing with my head, Biology is too hard, I can't tell the difference between a two-party system and a multi-party system blah, blah. But I refuse to let that all get in the way of my odd love for Snape. XD

Also this was written on Oswald my new laptop. I love him so much, too.

**People who have read my other Snape/Hermione stuff!! Read this!!!**

Does this fic seem randomly more mature to you? I feel like there is just something about it...


	2. Chapter 2

The fireplace in Hermione Granger's kitchen flared to life in a burst of green flame. An angry figure stormed from the grate, her curly hair sticking out like frazzled corkscrews from her head and her clothes clutched to her nearly naked chest. After being left in Severus' quarters it had seemed pointless to climb back into her date clothes. So furious was she that she had barely managed to refrain from destroying the man's quarters in the time it took her to pull on her underwear. Hermione threw her rumpled clothes onto her kitchen counter and angrily thrust her kettle under the tap. But even the cool metallic ting of the water hitting the bottom did nothing to soothe her frazzled nerves and she slammed the kettle back onto its base and flicked the switch, daggers still shooting from her eyes at anything in her path. Crookshanks lifted himself up onto chubby, arthritic legs and jumped down from the wooden kitchen chair he had been snoozing on. It wouldn't do to get caught in the crossfire.

Hermione stared at her kettle willing it to begin whistling the irritating tune of an imminent caffeine hit. But it remained motionless, light bouncing off it's metal casing and into her eyes. Wanting to take out her anger Hermione slammed the small yellow curtains at the kitchen window closed and sighed in the new darkness of the room. The obnoxiously happy wallpaper (a yellow flowered design she had picked out in a fit of good humour) was difficult to make out without the light from the morning sun and Hermione closed her eyes as she leaned heavily against the counter in the dark.

How could he do this? She was nice enough, wasn't she? She was curvy and modest, quiet some of the time and she was very polite. Hermione felt her face with pale, shaking fingers. She wasn't a hag, was she? What else could he want?

The kettle finally began to whistle and Hermione padded across her honey coloured floorboards to the little white cupboard across the kitchen and pulled out her favourite mug. She continued to move around in the dark, her date underwear (an all frills and no support affair) the only things protecting her from the elements of her small cottage in the middle of a summer heatwave. The whistling from her kettle grew obnoxiously loud as she dropped a teabag and some sweetener into the stripy blue chipped mug. She stared down at it contemptuously; her love of it was probably just another thing that made Severus think she wasn't good enough to be his girlfriend. The kettle clicked and automatically Hermione lifted it from its base and poured some into her mug. As she clinked a teaspoon against the edges of the china she stared at her drawn curtains and became lost in thought.

Why didn't he want her?

Hermione sighed and put her head in her hands. When did she become that pathetic girl who mooned over the men in her life? She was supposed to be better then this. Unbeknownst to her, green flames suddenly sprang up in her fireplace and a pink haired woman stepped out gingerly, and peered into the dark.

"Hermione?" Tea spilt across the counter and her favourite mug crashed down onto the floor as Hermione jumped a foot into the air.

"Not again!" Said woman grinned sheepishly and stumbled across the kitchen to her younger friend. She crouched down and began to pick up the pieces of the ruined mug.

"Sorry. I know. I know. I should wear a bell." She smiled apologetically at Hermione as she extended her legs and dumped the mug on the counter. Hermione began to search herself for her wand before realising she wasn't wearing any clothes. She blushed and ran across to the her kitchen door, pulling a robe off of the pegs next to it. "Date underwear, Hermione?" The blush increased as she deftly knotted the fastenings on her robe and span back around to face an intrigued Tonks.

"No. Can't I look nice for myself?"

"It's obviously for the Mystery Man that you refuse to tell me about. Don't worry I won't pry. So... what did you say his name was again?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at Tonks and walked forward to pluck the wand out of the back pocket of the crazy woman's jeans. She fixed the mug and siphoned the tea off of her counter.

The two friends moved around each other making another batch of tea in comfortable silence. Tonks' visits were such a usual occurrence that they had developed a strict schedule.

1. Tonks breaks something.

2. Hermione cleans it up.

3. They make tea.

4. Tonks begins to bug Hermione about her Mystery Man.

As you can see this visit is travelling along this pattern very comfortably.

"Hermione, we're supposed to be friends. How can you keep something like..."

"Tonks, there is no mystery man." They sat across from each other at the table, staring each other down, waiting for the other to crack. An event both knew would never come. Tonks silently took in Hermione's ruffled sex hair and her mouth, currently wrapped around her big blue mug but still swollen and red. It was just so incredibly obvious. Why bother hide it?

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No!" Hermione sighed and swirled her finger in her milky tea. Sugar granules swirled on the surface. Tonks didn't make tea. Tonks made sugar and milk with a side of flavoured water. Memories of her perfect cup of tea, gone forever, swam before her eyes.

"Tell me!" Hermione had been under the misapprehension that marriage to Remus Lupin would calm Tonks down slightly. But as she looked over the rim of her stripy mug at the pink haired woman, chanting her plea over and over in a weird sisters t-shirt and cut off jeans she knew Tonks just wasn't the settling down type.

"Tonks! Calm yourself." Hermione winced as she realised she had used her Snape tone. Six months with the infuriating man had rubbed off on her and at times she had to catch herself not to quote him or betray their relationship in any other way. As far as people knew she hadn't spoken to Severus in years.

Tonks stared at her suspiciously for a second, she was obviously trying to figure out why Hermione had seemed so familiar all of a sudden...

Hermione bit her lip, waiting for Tonks to pounce. But suddenly the sparkle of wonder left Tonks' eyes and she pouted down into her tea.

"Hermione, we're supposed to tell each other everything." Hermione scowled inwardly; how dare she try to guilt trip her?

"I'd never lie to you." Sadness began to itch away at her conscious; this was her friend. She shouldn't have to lie to her because of an arse like Snape. Hermione stood up and turned away from Tonks. She tipped the milky sludge in her mug down the sink and pulled a brave smile onto her face. "In fact, if you happen to meet any dashing young men who you think I might like... I'd be very grateful." Tonks grinned happily and launched into a laborious description of Mike from the Auror Office. Smart _and _funny. Just her type. He'd been wanting to meet her for simply _ages_.

Hermione slipped back into her seat and smiled at Tonks. Nodding at the right moments and making appreciative noises. She knew she was treating Tonks terribly but Snape had knocked her for six and it was taking every ounce of her being not to burst into tears, let alone be patient with Tonks.

"Oh it's going to be so much fun." Hermione zoomed back into the conversation in horror. What did she just agree to? "We'll have a great laugh. I'll dress you up and we'll hit all the best clubs."

"No, actually Tonks I don't really think it's my scene." Tonks round, freckly face dropped and she reached out to grab Hermione's hand.

"You have to come. Hermione everyone else is out of town and we never spend time together any more. Clubbing is fun." Hermione gulped in horror. She had agreed to 'clubbing'? Wasn't that what Harry and Ron did at the weekends? Hermione thought back in horror to the state she had found the duo in ust a few days before.

"No I'm sorry. I just remembered that I'm busy that night." Hermione was finally calm, all of her planning the night before was coming back. She had been being silly; it would be easy to make Severus want her as a girlfriend. It was just a matter of logic.

"You have to."

"Tonks..."

"No!" Tonks jumped up from her chair with a big grin on her face. She stuck short, black nail varnish coated fingers in her ears and ran towards the floo. "If I can't hear you, you can't cancel."

"Tonks..."

"La la la la." Tonks dropped a handful of floo dust into the grate and disappeared still singing at the top of her lungs.

Hermione sighed with exhaustion and dropped her head into her hands. She really didn't have the energy for this. With her fresh resolve suddenly dying again she stood up to put the kettle on.

-

A.N: Hello. Wow I'm rather terrible at updating, aren't I? Sorry about that. I've been having a confidence crisis and couldn't write anything. I rather want your opinion on this because I'm at a bit of a crossroad in life and I can either take the English route, the Politics/History route or the Botany route. I don't really want to go anywhere; I'm very comfortable on my nice little green hillock with the word 'indecision' written across it. But the big bad wolf named Reality is coming for me and I need to make a decision.

So is English a good idea?


	3. Chapter 3

On a small, cramped floor in the ministry for magic is a thin, rickety hallway and at the very end is a tiny black door. Hermione Granger stepped carefully around the gruesome, green damp patches on the wooden floorboards and weaved in and out of the cobwebs.

She really should complain one of these days.

Hermione reached the tiny black door after a series of trips and one stubbed toe. Staring at her infamous door she grumbled darkly to herself; the entrance to her office was going through a sticky phase. She reached down and tugged the handle around with all her strength then carefully tested her shoulder against the black, aged wood. When she was sure she had a firm grip she slammed her body into the panelling three times and screamed in frustration as the door refused to open. This method had been working for the past week (upped from just the one body slam from the week before) and she couldn't imagine how the door had got worse. From past experiences with the entrance she knew her wand was about as useless as her apparent non-existent body strength. Hermione span back around, her periwinkle robes flapping at her feet and she stormed back down the rickety hallway in search of her manager.

Charles Twain was a grimy-fingered, dirty faced and lecherous old man and Hermione swallowed in disgust before she grasped his sticky door-knob and walked into his office. His chubby body was sat hunched over a dirty looking scroll. He looked up and threw it unceremoniously into his top drawer upon seeing her.  
"Don't you knock?" his wheezy voice made her stomach churn with contempt and she came to stand before him, pulling a pleasant smile on to her face.

"Don't you work?" Twain's rough cheeks reddened as he realised that Hermione had known just what publication he was perusing.

"Erm yes I confiscated it..."

"We are all women in this department besides you..."

"What do you want?" he demanded roughly, trying to change the subject. Hermione glanced back at his large, mahogany door and wondered how he managed to weasel his large luxurious office when it took her half an hour and a fractured shoulder to practically break into hers. Twain was hardly above her in rank and she did all of his work anyway.

"Door's stuck again." Charles' protruding stomach wobbled precariously as he clambered to his feet. Hermione took a step back subconsciously to avoid the potent smell of liquor and nicotine that would soon wash over her. Twain's brown teeth glowed in the fake sunlight as he picked his way through a sea of muggle fast food wrappers and discarded roll ups to stand in front of his writing desk. He selected a piece of lavender paper and scrawled a message on it, his thin glasses slipping down his large, bulbous nose and his greasy blond hair falling forward on to his sweaty brow. He tapped the finished message with his short, thin wand and it zoomed off through the open door.

"You're quite welcome to wait here..." Hermione hurried to follow the message out of the room. Sitting on the wooden floorboards of her hallway and getting dust in her hair was far better then spending any more time alone with Twain.

-

Roy and Moss (1) the magic handymen had taken two hours to make their way down to her office and open the door. But she was finally inside and she could start on the mountain range of paperwork that had gained three summits overnight. She stared depressed around her room at the copious piles of forms and contracts. She couldn't take this for much longer. An owl suddenly flew through her open door, a welcome distraction.

"Aether!" Severus' beautiful black bird landed majestically on her desk and held out one perfectly sculpted leg. Hermione hesitated. Aether stared haughtily at her and hopped closer, acting as though her indecision about receiving a letter at work was really stupidity. Damn thing spent too much time with Severus. Hermione tugged the black ribbon holding the letter in place away and removed the parchment from the owl. Aether stared at her expectantly and Hermione threw a piece of bacon at her from the lunch salad sitting open on her desk. Was it possible for a bird to look actually offended at a food offering? Hermione turned away from Aether and slid an index finger under the fastening of the parchment and unrolled it with shaking hands. It had been exactly four days since she had last heard from Severus; it was his cooling down time. He wouldn't write or floo for a short period of time after they had done anything together, to appear detached she assumed. He obviously had no idea how predictable he was these days.

_H_

_My rooms 7pm Friday._

_No need to reply._

_-S_

Hermione blinked thoughtfully at the message and turned the parchment over to see if there was miraculously more to it. There wasn't. Hermione's head hit her desk with a loud thunk and she groaned pitifully. Could he have sent a more impersonal letter? He was demanding she come to see him, and his oppressive and empty tone made her bite her lip in horror. This was her relationship. She was in a long term partnership with a man who acted like she was a lackey to be ordered around. Hermione opened her eyes to peer dejectedly at the splintering wood of her desk. Severus could be affectionate when he really wanted to but that was mostly to get her into bed or out of it. Was she really that girl? Sure, they had conversations, inside jokes and dinner every now and again but outside of these restraints Severus acted like she was a stranger. He wouldn't let her tell her friends about him and never introduced her as his girlfriend at the Potion conferences he dragged her too. She was pathetic.

Suddenly fresh resolve once again sprung up into her mind, Hermione tried not to laugh at the familiar sensation; her resolve wasn't worth much nowadays. But putting that aside Hermione pulled a piece of parchment out of her top draw and inked her quill. She paused with the feather lightly tickling her chin, poised to spew abuse at Severus. But that wasn't her. With a sigh Hermione decided not to yell at Severus. Maybe it was just time to give him a taste of his own medicine and distance herself from him.

_Severus_

_I'm sorry. I already have plans with Tonks._

_We will be going out partying._

_Maybe some other time._

_Hermione_

Hermione laughed to herself, suddenly feeling deliciously naughty and bad. She folded the message and stood to walk to the Ministry owl point; she needed to send this before she lost her nerve. She may be using Tonks as an excuse but that didn't mean she actually had to go clubbing. She could stay home and watch a film and a have a long luxurious bath. Hermione sighed contently, looking forward to her appointment with herself. She pushed the message into her pocket and swerved out of her office and down the rickety hallway with a fresh and happy outlook. Even Charles Twain's sneaky slap on her bum couldn't ruin her mood, in fact she felt even better after she had turned him into a slug and she continued on her journey to the owl point with a swing in her step.

A.N-Charles Twain is based on two really horrid guys in my Politics class. A smelly, gross guy and a man-whore. Sadly I sit next to them and it's just really, really horrible. The man-whore touches me too much and put my coat on and made me put his on... it was just horrible. I really need to move seats but I don't want to leave my friends on the other side. : ( So yeah that's where Twain came from.

(1) Sorry I've been watching an unhealthy amount of I.T Crowd recently and it suddenly popped into my head that a bad team to fix things would have to include Roy and Moss (WHO I DON'T OWN). I love them so much. I want to mother Moss and give him a really big hug and then spray Roy with an extreme cleaning product and hug him too.

Thanks for reading. Yes I know this was a randomly quick update. But all the reviews encouraged me to write and I have the morning off so I just started writing this chapter.

BTW to the reviewer who was at the same BBQ as Markus Zusak... O.o I am so insanely jealous of you it's pitiful.

Becky x


	4. Chapter 4

"_I will always love you Charlotte." _

"_But George... how can you love me when you won't remember who I am?"_

"_You will always be in my heart..."_

"_But how? I'll never be more then a stranger to you ever again."_

"_I'll find a way; you mean everything to me."_

"_Oh George!" _

Hermione howled into her tissue and wiped the tears from her eyes to see the screen better. George and Charlotte kissed passionately in the middle of the pine forest, her hands clumsily pushing his top hat from his head and his fingers curling in her full skirts. The light from the screen danced around her living room, reflecting off of the glass fronts of the picture frames hanging on the wall behind her sofa. Hermione cried out again and held the tissue to her mouth, trying to smother the unladylike noise before giving in and letting the sobs wrack her body. It was just so sad! She may have seen the ancient black and white film more times then she cared to remember but this moment of utter despair always got to her. Hermione pulled her legs out from under herself and picked her hot chocolate up from the floor, taking a tentative sip.

"_Charlotte, it's time." _Hermione's sobs reached epic proportions as George pulled himself from Charlotte's arms and turned to stare at the horizon.

"_Oh George. Please. You can't leave. We'll think of something; we always think of something." _George shook his head sadly and picked up his cane from the ground.

"_You are my everything, Charlotte. I can't let you..."_

"So this is your girls' night out?" Hermione screamed and jumped up from the couch. Her chipped mug of hot chocolate arched through the air, the brown liquid spiralling towards her as it was freed from it's china prison. The cooled drink slashed across her lavender pyjama bottoms and 'weird sisters' night shirt, drenching her skin and hair. Charlotte and George continued to love each other quietly in the corner of the room. With horror Hermione reached up and felt the damp curls trapped in her favourite blue hair band. Severus watched her with one eyebrow cocked in amusement as he leant against the door frame to her living room. He had been suspicious when Hermione refused to see him and it seemed his curiosity had been very called for. Hermione bit the inside of her mouth awkwardly as he began to prowl towards her. Her messy, Friday-night-in pyjamas, red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks were making her self-conscious. Severus' face was impassive and Hermione glanced into his eyes trying to see whether he was angry or not. Her t-shirt was suddenly lifted over her head and Severus was kissing her like it was the last thing he would ever do. So he... wasn't angry?

"Sever...?"

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Severus said slowly in-between frantic butterfly kisses. The comment stung sharply at Hermione's pride and she pulled away from him quickly.

"No, we need to talk..." Severus stroked warm fingers across her bare stomach, ignoring her protests.

"No, we need to go to your bedroom." Hermione shook her head, trying to shake off the fuzz inside her that always fizzled in her ears around him. She laid her hands gently on Severus' shoulders and pushed him lightly away. Severus cocked one eyebrow at her lazily and crossed his arms, watching her through waiting black eyes.

"Why are you so ashamed of me?" Severus's look of disdain made Hermione's shoulders feel tight and uncomfortable. She ducked her head and stared at the threadbare rug they were standing on. The raspberry rug had been a find in a small muggle village's second hand shop. Severus absolutely hated it but Hermione refused to move it to another room when he came around.

Suddenly, Hermione was tugged slowly into thin arms. Severus pulled her hair out it's hair band with one hand and lifted her face with the other so he could watch her eyes.

"I'm not." Spindly, potion stained fingers began to run through her curls absent-mindedly, they twisted around the pale appendages until Severus had a hand-full of wild, brown, hot chocolate soaked curls. He began to walk them backwards, still trapped together in his arms. "You know, you shouldn't lie to me about where you're going..." The clouds in her head began to lift again and Hermione tried to pull away slightly.

"Why shouldn't I? When i'm not even allowed to tell anyone you're my... boyfriend." Hermione watched Severus' face twist into a sneer.

"I'm 41-years-old. I'd hardly call myself your boyfriend." They had paused on the very edge of her raspberry rug and Severus' destination – her bedroom – was only a few feet away. Hermione struggled in his arms, now wanting to be distracted by stroking fingers and kisses.

"Then what are you?" she choked out as she fought against his hold. Severus raised an eyebrow and adjusted his hold on her so she could lean back and study his face. Severus moved closer for another kiss, deciding that this conversation was dangerous and that it would be better to distract her completely. "Severus **stop**!"

"**What is wrong with you tonight**?" Severus yelled down at her. Hermione blinked in the aftermath of his anger and slipped out of his loosened grip. Severus stood in shock as she ran to the fireplace and disappeared through the floo.

Seconds later Hermione tumbled out of the small hearth in Tonks and Remus' homely kitchen.

"I changed my mind." she choked out at the couple drinking tea, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks.

-

With her eyes closed Hermione sat at the small stool in front of Tonks' dressing table. Various brushes stroked her face as Tonks applied a layer of make-up to her tear-stained face.  
"Promise me you aren't making me look like a clown." she said with a thick voice.

"Of course not, 'Mione. I'm just giving you a bit of colour."

"Okay... don't call me 'Mione." A comfortable silence spread out between them as Tonks told her to open her eyes and wondered off to find her an outfit. Hermione remained in front of the mirror staring at the small, curly haired girl watching her. No one would suspect that the neat, little thing had just had her heart broken.

Tonks suddenly ran back into view, waving a short piece of black material at her. The grin on her face told Hermione that it was the outfit she was expected to wear. She smiled back weakly and looked at the quaint little bedroom of the Lupin's. A half-moon shone in through the small bay window and the blue lamp on a night stand shone a weak light on the white walls.

Suddenly the urge to tell Tonks everything simply because she was so lovely became overwhelming.

"It's Snape." Hermione said in a quiet voice before she could talk herself out of the admittance. Tonks continued to smile as she laid the dress out on the bed and dropped to her hands and knees under it to look for some shoes.

"What's Snape?" she asked when she resurfaced with two large leather shoes obviously belonging to Remus on her hands. She smiled playfully at Hermione and held them against the dress. She had been about to make a comment on how perfect they were when Hermione spoke again...

"My mystery man." Tonks sat back on her heels in shock, one shoe-coated hand came up to support her face as she looked at Hermione in contemplation.

"Well I can't say I saw that coming." Hermione smiled weakly at her and stood up from the stool. Tonks moved with her until they were both sitting on either side of Hermione's outfit on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, the shoes on her hands making her look bizarre, but it seemed she had forgotten about them.

"Because he's an idiot and wouldn't listen to me." Tonks looked confused for a second and rested one shoe on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione? It's Snape! Flash him a bit of leg and you're in!"

-

A.N Sorry about the really long wait. I've actually had most of this done since the day after the last chapter but I've been putting off actually finishing it. I should be doing my politics essay right now but this seemed more fun. For some strange reason I love that shoe image XD

Only one more chapter to go. So I need some help with what I should do next.

A) Go through and re do all of my old stuff (not a popular option for me but it needs to be done but... so can't be bothered)

B) Think of an actual plot for my Bill/Hermione the ranch because it's enjoyable to write but it wasn't going anywhere so I took it down)

C) Attempt my new plot bunny of 18th century love between Hermione (the cousin/maybe just ward of the Weasley's) who is staying at the Burrow for the winter. Hermione seen as very plain and thrust into the background whilst Ginny is the flavour of the balls etc. Weasley brothers would make appearances but probably only Ron living with them. Harry visiting. Severus the rich scientist, the talk of the village, the Weasley's see it as a chance to marry Ginny off. Ginny doesn't want him and has her heart set on Harry. Maybe a forbidden romance between them. Adult Weasley's presuring Hermione to marry Ron (I know gross but cousins did marry then) but Severus falls for her instead. Haven't really worked out the kinks and it's only in the "hmm maybe I could..." part of my brain.

D) Do something with my drabbles. Maybe make it into a chapter fic of each drabble

E) DO some actual work on my original story which only has one chapter. No one would get to read it even though I keep accidently writing the main male character Cal as Snape :P

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Hope you enjoyed it.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

A.N Last chapter :(

I've recently noticed just how bad Tangibility is so I will probably scrap it and replace it with better work with a stronger narrative and maybe a more developed plot but there won't be much difference in the actual storyline... might be a bit longer or shorter though.

-

Severus stared at the empty charred fireplace, his pale face creased in agitation. How dare that little chit walk out on _him? _

The small purple room seemed to shrink around the angry Potions Professor. His tall, foreboding body looked alien and out of place among the comfortable furnishings, happy trinkets and photos in Hermione's living room. Severus sneered at the room after managing to tare his eyes away from the woman's escape. He despised this room. It embodied exactly the reason he was uncomfortable in his and Hermione's relationship: he just didn't belong.

Silly little girl, he thought, she'll be the death of me. Severus stormed across the threadbare rug towards the fireplace and made an angry swipe for the floo powder. His pale bony hands overshot in his rage and the small porcelain pot crashed down onto the ground. Severus stared at the mess of green glittering dust on the bare wooden floorboards and sighed tiredly. Not bothering to clean it up he turned on the spot and left Hermione's small flat.

Re-appearing in his dark, dank kitchen Severus shook his head slowly from side to side to get rid of the ringing his wards always left in his ears. The itch of his conscience began to irritate the back of his mind as he crashed past his small dining table to his liquor cupboard. A small glass of scotch later Severus sat staring at the chipped walls of his kitchen in contemplation. He should apologise, he thought slowly after the heat of his anger had started to ebb away, it wouldn't do for the little chit to be angry at him. But then... he didn't even know where she would have gone.

Severus aimed his wand at the small lamp hanging from his ceiling and as it came to light he noticed the rusty chain hanging it lop-sidedly in place. Severus' hand dropped back to the tabletop with a loud thump; the whole place was falling apart.... just like him.

The heavy wooden table trapped between the dirty cupboards of his kitchen was too close to the oven to be safe and too far away from the pantry for convenience. Pathetically he had long ago given up on bothering to set it properly: the only table cloth he owned was hidden away in a cupboard; the remains of his pitiful meal for one graced an old chipped plate and that evening he had only been able to find mismatched cutlery and a speckled glass.

"So... I'm losing her." Severus mumbled to himself and pulled the dusty scotch bottle closer. The pitiful light from the lamp above his head cast the room in shadows. Severus shifted in his seat to lean back on its hind legs to grab a cleaner looking glass from his counter. His movement made the light flicker and suddenly a small potion flash lit up at the back of the counter top in front of him. Severus growled low in his throat and dropped his chair back on to all four legs.

"**Stupid mutt**." His chair scraped angrily against the stone floor of the small kitchen as Severus flung himself from his chair and grabbed the Wolfsbane Potion in a bruising grip.

Within seconds he was in the floo network, spinning away to berate the wolf.

Severus' feet had barely touched the honey coloured wooden floorboards of the Lupin's sickeningly homely kitchen when he started ranting at the bemused werewolf.

"I don't make this blasted potion for you every month for your pathetically tiny excuse for a brain to forget to come and **pick it up**!" Remus pulled his thin spectacles off of his face and sat back to watch Severus rant, mindlessly polishing the thin glass lenses. "Stupid dogs don't know what's good for them...!"

"Okay Remus, we're off." Severus was cut off by the happy voice of a very satisfied Metamorphamagus. Hermione and Tonks walked through the lop-sided archway leading from the hallway into the kitchen, their shoes making light clicking noises as they stepped, anticipating hours of dancing. Severus stared at Hermione with a paling face taking in everything. He watched the way the thin loose material of the skirt of her black dress swirled around her legs as she moved, her delicate pale arms the colour of moonlight swinging gracefully at her sides and her white neck and collarbones rising from the collar of her dress majestically, supporting a head of tumbling curls. Suddenly Severus' eyes caught on what seemed like yards of long pale silk trapped in black fishnet stockings and everything in his life paled into insignificance. He stumbled backwards into a waiting wooden chair and stared openly at Hermione's legs, balanced perfectly on two small black heels.

Resolve to never let her out of his site surged inside of Severus' tormented mind. The energy tumbled inside of him until it needed some kind of outlet before he did something _truly_ stupid; for all the Lupin's knew he hadn't seen Hermione in years. Damn it all. He directed the spark of resolve at Lupin as anger.

"You're letting your wife outside dressed like that? Are you insane or just stupid?" Severus glanced quickly at Tonks to check she was wearing something similar to Hermione; for the life of him he hadn't noticed when the duo had walked into the room. Remus had turned back to the book he had been reading before Severus' abrupt entrance and he glanced up from the pages to smile at his wife.

"I've learnt not to even try, Severus. You might want to do the same. You look lovely Nym." As Tonks and Lupin shared what Severus could only describe with mounting disgust as a 'moment' he began to protest.

"But...!" A small, angry voice stopped him from going any further.

"Snape, what are you even doing here?" Hermione stared frostily at him from the other side of the kitchen, and Severus' breath hitched with her dress as she folded her arms, accidentally gathering inches up in her grip. He couldn't take it. Severus jumped up from his chair, suddenly locomotive again and shrugged his cloak off. Hermione span on her heels and ducked under his arm, narrowly missing the thick material he was trying to cover her with. "Snape! What do you think you're doing? You're acting like my _boyfriend._" her tone was mocking and she stuck out her chin stubbornly. Severus opened and closed his mouth slowly, trying to think of an argument. Why, he thought, that little brat...

"Ready to go 'Mione?"

"Don't call me that." Hermione choked back at Tonks, attempting to sound calm and good-natured, and desperately trying to ignore the burning in her eyes. Tonks and Remus smiled at her sympathetically, the latter raising his wolfsbane in a toast. "Come on, let's go."

"But you can't!" Severus finally managed to protest. His brain whirled away, thinking of and then rapidly dismissing ideas to make her come home with him.

"Oh? And why is that?" Hermione stared back at him with an infuriatingly innocent look, even as a solitary tear dropped from her eyelashes. Severus didn't allow himself time to think of any more pathetic and pointless plans to win her back and blurted out the first thing that spilled out on to his tongue.

"Because I'm your boyfriend and you should come home with me!" An explosive snort ripped through the kitchen as Remus choked and spat out his Wolfsbane in shock.

"Boyfriend!" Tonks said happily and started dancing around the kitchen, dragging a still choking, potion drenched Remus with her. Hermione stepped towards Severus as the man began to pale in horror. What had he said? But as Hermione reached out a hand and stroked his cheek, pulling his face down to meet hers he decided he didn't really mind being a 41-year-old boyfriend if it meant keeping her.

"I think we'll have to re-schedule Tonks."

A.N – blah blah. Very short. I know, I know. But it's finished and hey if you have this on favourite or alerted it do you mind dropping me a line and telling me what you think? I'm always so grateful that you people add me on lists but I'd quite like to know in words what you liked and what you think I can improve.

So... oi you! Yeah you! That person behind the screen staring at this fic. Thanks for reading. : )


End file.
